


An Indecent Weekend Proposal

by Nanyoky



Series: Quickbird Revolution [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Awkwardness, Cheesy, Domestic, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Orphans, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Past Riley/Sam Wilson, Sharing a Bed, Silly, Soldiers, literally every overused fanfic romance cliche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 22:24:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8818489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanyoky/pseuds/Nanyoky
Summary: The quintessential fake dating/bedsharing fic you probably haven't actually been waiting for.





	1. The Work Week

**Author's Note:**

> So here we are. I think we can all agree that every ship deserves at least one of these, even the tiny ones. So here's the monstrosity no one asked for. Exactly what it says on the tin. If feel like if you're here already I don't have to make an excuse.

Natasha licked her finger and traced it around the rim of her glass. Sam watched, un-amused, as she finally made the crystal ring. Several people at the table around them winced and looked around for the source of the noise. Sam smacked her hand away and took her glass.

"Can you focus for five seconds?"

"I'm focused!" She snatched the glass back. "I'm just trying to come up with a solution to your boring normal human problems that you'll actually approve of."

Sam scowled and was saved from replying by their food arriving.

"Thanks, Wanda." He took his pasta with a smile to the harassed looking waitress. "You have a break coming up? You should sit with us."

Natasha nodded into her drink and used her free hand to lift her jacket from the chair next to her. "Yeah- come on. How've you been?"

Wanda made a "tch!" noise as she took off the black apron around her waist and dropped into the seat.

"I am Jewish and working in seafood restaurant, how do you think it is going?"

"I thought you said you were 'barely practicing.'" Sam raised his eyebrows at her.

"I am," she took a spare fork from the nearby empty table and stole one of his shrimp. "But I've been having bad luck lately, so, naturally, it is because my father is rolling in his grave."

"Naturally," Natasha passed her their basket of breadsticks. "What kind of bad luck are you having? Anyone we can threaten for you?"

"I wish. But unless you want to beat up the cost of living in Brooklyn, there's not much you can do."

"I wouldn't say no to that," Sam raised his glass in solidarity.

"We were working on Sam's problems today, but we can move on to yours if you want."

"No-" Wanda shook her head as she chewed on a huge bite of breadstick. "Tell me. Hopefully your problems will make me feel better about mine."

Sam rolled his eyes and concentrated on his food while Natasha filled their friend in on the whole situation. It was nothing new, really. Just his mother being her typical lovable yet overbearing self. It had been the third time in two weeks she had called him trying to set him up with a friend's kid, and he'd made the mistake of mentioning it to Natasha.

"Why don't you just tell her you are already seeing someone?" Wanda was on her second breadstick, waving the remaining end as she spoke. "You could say it was me. I would not mind."

Natasha waved a hand. "Tried that. No luck."

"My last partner was a guy," Sam explained. "And every time I go from men to women or the other way, I have to listen to her go on and on about how I can never make up my mind. It's worse than getting constantly set up."

Wanda grimaced. "No- we must find you a man, then."

"Not you too."

"Not a real boyfriend, just someone to get your mother to stop bothering you about being single."

"See, I knew I liked her-" Natasha waved her straw at Wanda. "Crazy, convoluted solutions to simple life problems. My kinda woman."

Sam shook his head at the idea. "She knows everyone I'd feel comfortable asking. It'd be uncomfortable when I'd have to make up some story about the breakup."

"I keep telling you, Steve is used to people's mothers hating him."

"No. I'm not doing that. New idea."

Sam ate quietly while they thought about it.

"Just tell her to back off."

"You've never met Sam's mother. I have- and I think he should fake his death. That one always works."

"That seems a little dramatic. But can you cry on purpose? You could break down the next time she tries to set you up and tell her it is torment for your soul to be reminded how lonely it is and she will feel so guilty she will never bring it up again."

"Do you two ever take your own advice? Would you?" He raised his eyebrows at them. "Because I'm pretty sure you wouldn't still be alive if you did."

Natasha shrugged and finished her oyster stew. "I don't really care enough about anything to fake my death over. So haven't done that one yet."

"I don't follow my own advice, but my brother does, so I have to be sure it is good," Wanda had taken Sam's drink when he wasn't looking and was now half finished with it. "But the fake partner is still the best option."

"I'm not doing that one," Sam reminded her with a sigh. "I'm going to silently put up with it until one of us dies of loneliness."

~

Pietro rolled over in bed and squinted at his phone. 3am. Wanda would not be home for another hour. He might as well get up. The waking hours she did not spend at work were the only thing in his life worth being awake for. He took a shower more out of something to do than because he needed one. As he dressed, the front door snapped shut.

"I hope that is you, _drágám_ ," he called through the bedroom door. "I do not remember if I locked the door and I do not want to be murdered."

"It is, you didn't, make me tea and I will spare you."

He pulled on a fresh shirt and went out into the living area of the tiny apartment. Wanda had flopped down onto the fold out mattress of the couch.

"You can have the bed. I will stay up now."

"I can't move," she groaned into the stained pillowcase. "I will never move again."

Pietro bent to ruffle her hair as he passed the couch and proceeded to make her tea. He reached at first for the packaged bags from the grocery store, then thought better of it and used a pinch of leaves from the scratched old tin on the top shelf.

"What are you-" she had lifted her head at the sound of him opening the tin. "Pietro- no! That is for-"

"It is to remind us of home," he put the exact amount of honey she liked in the steaming mug and stirred it as he brought it to her. "But you have only had it once since we arrived here."

"Because we have to save it. It is all we have." She continued to protest, even as she held the cup reverently in her hands and breathed in the steam.

"If we save it for too long, we'll forget," he reminded her, sitting on the edge of the fold out bed and looking down at his hands. "It won't mean anything."

She was quiet for a moment.

"You're right. I'm sorry, Pietro. Thank you." She drank half the tea before passing him the mug.

Pietro took it and drank the rest while she told him about her night of work. He'd never liked the tea back before their parents died. But it was their mother's favorite and the smell and taste were both familiar.

"So the customers were as horrible as usual, but Sam and Natasha came for lunch, so I got to see them during my break. Sam's mother is bothering him to find a date, so we tried to think of ways to get her to stop. It was nice. How was your day?"

Pietro shrugged as he finished the tea. He didn't want to tell her that he'd done nothing with his day except go for a run and scrape together enough spare change for a sandwich and fries from the cafe down the street.

"Pietro..."

She could always tell when he was keeping something from her or lying. Having a twin was sometimes very inconvenient.

"What... did you make any calls?"

"Yes- some."

It was a lie and she knew it. Pietro was grateful when she turned the subject back to the rude man who had tried to get her number for over an hour.

~

"Samuel Edward Wilson, I've done it. I've really done it this time."

"No- Mom-"

"He's Lue's son. You remember Lucy Figgus from my book club?"

Sam sighed and rubbed his temples. She'd called him at work. At work. This was getting wildly out of hand.

"Mom, I really appreciate you trying to help, but I'm just not looking to be set up-"

"I worry about you, Sam! And Lue worries about Fredrick! That's his name, Fredrick. He's very sweet. I've met him a few times and he hasn't run away yet."

Sam took a breath and collected himself as she laughed at her own joke.

"I don't need to be set up, Mom. I-" he didn't know why he did it. Maybe his friends were stating to wear off on him. "I'm already seeing someone."

There was a moment of silence. Sam thought he should be offended that she was evidently shocked speechless.

"No you're not."

He was definitely offended that this news was not just shocking, but unbelievable in her mind.

"I am. He's uh- my friend's brother. Wanda- you know? Has a twin?"

"Didn't you say you barely get to see Wanda outside work? How did you meet her brother?"

"Come on- is it really so hard to believe?"

Evidently, yes, as she did not even dignify this with an answer.

"How come you've never mentioned him?" She sounded suspicious. "How come you haven't-"

"I didn't mention him because I didn't know if he was ready to meet you," Sam interrupted hastily before she _really_ got going.

There was a beat of silence again, but this one was shorter.

"But you two are ready now!"

Sam's heart dropped like a stone and she laughed joyfully. This was the opposite of a solution to his problems.

"Wait-"

"Oh Sam! I'm so excited. This weekend. I know you don't have plans yet. You never have plans until the very last minute."

"No, Mom- I can't just-"

"I won't take no for an answer, Sam!" She sounded beyond delighted. "You know, if I have a regret in my life, just one-"

"Mom- I have to go."

"No you don't. You just don't want to talk about-"

Sam's gut clenched and he hastened to interrupt her. "I'm at work. You can't just call me in the middle of the day and expect to-"

"Oh alright. But you're coming. And you're bringing this new man with you."

The line clicked. Sam dropped his head down on his desk.

~

Wanda laughed for nearly two minutes straight when he told her. Sam was glad she at least found the situation funny. He'd offered to pay for dinner at the Dim Sum restaurant she'd been meaning to try. After they had ordered, he explained the situation.

"Are you done?" Sam raised his eyebrows at her as she clapped her hands together in delight, still laughing. "You know everyone in this place thinks you're certifiably _nuts_ now, right?"

"I'm sorry-" she pressed her lips together, trying to stay her giggling. "But- you couldn't think of _anyone_ who would make a more believable fake boyfriend?"

"Well I don't know your brother, so I figured she couldn't harass him."

"But now she wants to meet him," Wanda raised her eyebrows at him. She was sobering now, starting to understand just how serious the situation was. At least, that's what Sam hoped was going through her head. "And then she very much _can_ harass him."

Sam planted his elbows on the table and ran his hands down his face. "I'll tell her we broke up. Just- just though I'd warn you. You know- in case you ever meet her and she brings it up."

One of Wanda's eyebrows cocked above the other. "You didn't take me out for dumplings and beer to tell me that your mother may one day mention that she hates my brother, whom she has never met."

She took out her phone and started tapping away at the screen as she spoke. Sam groaned.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm explaining everything to Pietro."

Sam gaped at her.

"What-" he snatched at her phone, but she leaned easily out of his reach, grinning as she texted her brother. "What do you think you're-"

"I know he'll do it. He will find it all very funny, I'm sure."

"'He'll do it'?" Sam's stomach was sinking with dread before he even finished asking. "Do what?"

"Go meet your mother for the weekend," she smiled down at her phone as she continued to swipe out messages. "He will think it is a wonderful joke."

Sam stared at her as she shifted in her seat, adjusting her grip on the phone.

"Are you taking-"

"Just trust me, this is going to be fun." She frowned down at her phone for a moment. Looking pensive, she clacked out something with her brows drawn together.

"He said no," Sam laughed with relief. "See, I told you, it's not a joke-"

"He'll do it," she was back to grinning now, finally setting down her phone. "I told him that you will pick him up from our flat on Friday after you're done with work. And that he should bring toothbrush and clothes. Is that all?"

"No! Wanda- we can't just-"

"Of course we can," she leaned back to allow the server to set down her food. "Thank you. Anyway- tomorrow the two of you can work out all the details in the car on the way to your mother's. You said she lives upstate, yes? That should be enough time to come up with stories and to learn about each other."

Sam stared at her. He knew he tended to get mixed up with somewhat eccentric friends. And normally he was happy to go along with Natasha and Steve's wild adventures. But he drew the line at that sort of thing involving his mother.

"I'm never going to forgive you for this, you know that right?"

She shrugged, halfway through her food already. "Hey- it was _your_ idea."

~

Pietro was lying in bed, picking at his nails, when his phone buzzed. He grabbed it, frowning. Wanda had said she was going out to dinner with a friend between her usual two shifts.  He'd thought she would be far too busy to say anything at all to him until she got home. Unless something had happened. He opened the message, feeling anxious.

_Pietro- This. Is. Amazing. You remember my friend Sam? He told his mother he was already dating someone so she couldn't set him up. And he didn't want to say someone she knew, so he said it was you._

Pietro stared at the message, then laughed despite himself.

_Now she wants to meet you._

He laughed harder and someone above him stamped on the floor.

"Shut up, ya lunatic!"

"I will when you stop having boring sex every night!"

He ignored the resulting curses and swiped out a response.

_Is he good looking? Send me pictures._

A moment later:

_He didn't know I was taking this- he is much cuter when he smiles and is not annoyed with me._

Pietro grinned at the photo of the man, scowling and waving what looked like a pair of chopsticks at Wanda.

_He is not so bad when he is angry either._

_I told him you will find it all very funny.  Will you do it?_

Pietro grinned down at the screen and was halfway through tapping out a positive response when his stomach sank for no real reason at all. He wanted to. The whole situation was more than hilarious. But the same thing held him back that kept him from asking local businesses for applications when he went out every day.

As if reading his mind all the way from Midtown, Wanda sent another message.

_You deserve some fun, Pietro. I know you're worried about things, but if you leave for a weekend and come back, things will seem better._

He smiled at the message, even as his gut twisted. They didn't talk about it, but she knew. She knew he felt like he didn't belong in New York, and was terrified by how quickly she had adapted. He knew he was stupid for feeling this way. Their lot in New York was already hundreds of times better than in Sokovia. They had somewhere to sleep at night, for one. A small, dirty apartment in a dodgy neighborhood full of junkies, but it was out of the cold. They had food- neither of them had gone hungry in months. And Wanda had even carefully planned out her earnings and deemed it reasonable to buy them both fairly recent smart phones. She said they were for emergencies, but their data plan allowed for plenty of use.

But he missed the city. He missed home. He missed the energy that came with the struggle just to live. He even missed the cold. Sometimes, in winter, he slept with the windows open while Wanda was at work. But now, when the air outside was hotter than in, there was no relief.

_I'm sorry. I will tell him to forget about it._

_What are you talking about? Of course I will charm your handsome friend's mother for a weekend._


	2. Friday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kudos! Full disclosure, I have this fic finished and chilling on my computer awaiting minor edits and additions, so there should be no reason I can't post a chapter a week. Enjoy!

Sam followed Wanda's directions and parked outside her apartment building. Looking at the overflowing dumpster directly outside the front door, graffitied brick, and gang of thuggish looking men hanging around the alley outside, Sam made a mental note to start leaving Wanda much more generous tips. And maybe walk her home. Parking at the curb and ignoring the looks of the loitering men, he texted her.

_Against all logic, I'm here._

_Great! We will be right down!_

Sam frowned at the word "we." He sure hoped Wanda wasn't planning on third wheeling them all weekend. For a moment, his mind flashed to a ridiculous image of Wanda watching the whole disastrous weekend from his mother's breakfast nook with a bucket of popcorn. He shook his head to clear the bizarre fantasy and continued to watch the door of the building.

It opened, finally, and Wanda waved at him, grinning. She hit the arm of the man next to her and gestured to Sam's car. They approached quickly, both smiling.

"Sam!" Wanda ducked down to stick her head into his open passenger side window. She grabbed up at the man's shirt to drag him down with her. "This is Pietro. Your new boyfriend."

Wanda's twin looked nothing like her. Sam didn't know what he had been expecting. Maybe someone rounder. He was taller than his sister, and more angular around the face. While Wanda's features were sloping, flat planes, Pietro had a long, sharp, and somewhat crooked nose. And bleached white hair. Sam swallowed.

"Hi!"

If Sam had doubted that the two of them were twins, the matching shit eating grins he was receiving would have convinced him.

"Uh- hey." Sam had no idea what he was supposed to say in this situation. Luckily, Wanda proceeded briskly.

"Good work, your first date is over." She shrugged off a ragged backpack and dropped it into the back seat. "Now, I made a list of things you should both know when asked. But Sam knows his mother and what she will want to know. This is just to get you started."

She passed Sam a scrap of paper through the window. Sam took it and glanced down at the first few items on the list scribbled in pen. _First meeting, first date, living situation._ Sam tried to suppress a groan.

"Anyway, have fun! And text me. I want to know _everything_."

She kissed her brother's cheek and offered Sam one last cheerful wave. Sam scowled at her and leaned over to pop the door open.

"Thanks-" Pietro dropped into the passenger's seat and stuck out a hand. "Pietro Maximoff."

Sam smiled despite himself and shook the proffered hand. "Sam Wilson."

~

"Let us see." Pietro took the paper Wanda had passed Sam from the dashboard as they pulled out into traffic. "Should we start with relationship or personal things?"

"Personal," Sam said decisively with a brief nod. "That way we can go over what we already know about each other."

"Yes- that is a good idea. You want to go first?"

"Sure."

Pietro watched the other man as he collected his thoughts. Wanda was right. He was much better looking when he was cheerful. There was a quiet, light ease about him that made the potentially awkward meeting much less so. Pietro was halfway through thinking of ways to make him smile again when he caught himself and looked back out the window.

"You're Pietro Maximoff, Wanda's twin brother."

" _Older_ twin. That is very important."

"Older twin? Is that possible?"

"Twelve minutes."

Sam laughed and Pietro added that to the list of things he wanted to make Sam do again. "That right?"

"It is. This is very important, so please remember."

"Alright, older twin. You and your sister moved here just over a year ago from Sokovia-"

" Rácz," he added automatically. "It is the oldest city."

Sam glanced over at him before turning his eyes back to the road, saying nothing. Pietro was grateful. He didn't want to talk about the occupation, least of all with an ex soldier.

"From Rácz, Sokovia," Sam allowed, going on. "Jewish, but according to Wanda, either 'not practicing' or 'barely practicing,' depending on the day of the week."

"Yes. Is that going to be-"

"No. She's not some nut hoping I'll end up with a nice Christian boy. Probably won't come up, but we should probably know that sort of thing."

"Right."

"Other than that I don't know much, to be honest. Wanda says you like to run. And that you'd like a cat, but you don't want to have to leave it alone once you're-" he stopped himself, then, clearly realizing it was too late to backtrack, "Both working. Sorry. She just mentioned-"

"It's alright," Pietro crossed his arms and slumped further in his seat. "Should... should I come up with something else to tell your mother?"

"Not unless you want to."

He thought about this for a moment. "No. We should tell the truth where we can so that we can keep lies straight."

To his surprise, Sam laughed again.

"What?"

"Sorry- it's just- you're definitely Wanda's twin, aren't you?"

He grinned and nodded, his spirits picking up after being reminded of his unemployment. "Most people do not find it so clear."

"Well, you don't look much alike."

"I am the good looking one. You must remember this as well."

"Won't be too hard." When he glanced over to see Pietro's raised eyebrows, he hurried to go on. "Since I'm already remembering you're the oldest."

Pietro looked out his window, pressing his lips together. "Yes. Oldest and best looking. No job. Likes running and cats. That is all there is to know, really."

Sam laughed again. "Well, that's about all she's told me. Now me?"

"Yes-" he frowned, trying to think of anything at all in the moment. Having never met any of Wanda's friends, it was hard to remember which story belonged to who. "You are Sam Wilson. You used to be a soldier, but now head doctor."

"Not a psychiatrist. I run a veterans group. No real degree required."

"Right. You run the group. And... you always end up doing very crazy stupid things with your friends."

This earned him another laugh. Pietro grinned, more than a little pleased that he was so good at making this happen.

~

It wasn't so bad, once they got talking. Pietro's English wasn't quite as good as his sister's, but he was still comfortable enough in the language to be quick and witty.

"Alright," he said once they were through listing all the sparse details they knew about one another. "I know Wanda, but you should know someone from my life. I feel like Nat would be enough. We probably hang out with Natasha and your sister all the time. She's-"

"I know her!" Pietro interjected, grinning. "I mean- we have not met. But Wanda talks about you and Natasha and all the things you say together."

Sam blinked, surprised and more than a little touched that Wanda spoke of him at all. "Does she? Hope it's nothing too terrible."

"Mostly it is the strange things from Natasha, and the funny things from you."

"So I guess that brings us to the stuff we have to make up, right?"

"Yes. Meeting, dates, living situation," Pietro read off the list. "That is easy. We are not living together. It is too soon, I think."

"Agreed," Sam nodded in what he realized was probably a laughably business-like manner. "We should keep things simple. We met when you visited Wanda at work. I was there with Nat and Steve for drinks. We got talking, exchanged phone numbers."

"Yes. Then, after some texting, we met for drinks."

"Coffee," Sam corrected firmly.

"Do we not drink?"

"We drink, but for the first date we kept things casual and classy," he explained. "Moms like that."

"Right. How long ago was this? I do not know at what point people are supposed to meet mothers."

"Uh-" Sam frowned, thinking this over. "Bout four months. But we only just started taking it seriously in the past few weeks."

"Does serious mean sex?"

Sam was so taken aback he actually looked over at his passenger for a full few seconds. Pietro was grinning like he had meant the question to be just as surprising as it was.

"Not that it will come up when we talk with your mother. But we should know this, I think."

Sam nodded as he turned back to the road, mulling this over. "Sex happened earlier. I don't move that slow."

"Good. I would not know how to act in a relationship where we have waited months to sleep together."

Sam laughed again. He'd laughed a lot on the car ride so far. More than he thought he'd be able to in such an awkward situation. But he was finding it just as easy to talk to Pietro as Wanda.

"Well, that's probably the most uncomfortable thing we have to work out, so-"

"No. There is worse."

Sam glanced over wearily. "Like what?"

"Like- what do I call you?"

Sam felt the blood drain from his face. "Shit. Names."

"Sam is for Samuel, yes? Would you let your partner call you that?"

"Maybe. But my mom usually uses it when she's mad at me or ordering me around, so I wouldn't like it."

"Well, I can't just call you 'Sam.'"

"Why not? What's wrong with my name?"

"It's just not very romantic to use the same name as everyone else."

Sam found himself laughing again. There was just something endearing about how matter-of-factly Pietro said this rather cheesy statement. As though it wasn't a matter of preference in the way he conducted his romantic relationships, just the proven facts.

"Well, what about you? Do I call you 'Pete-'"

"Not if you want to live, you do not."

Sam fought down a smile, storing this information for later. "Okay, okay. Well, I'm not really one for pet names, normally."

"Maybe we will come back to this. What else?"

"I got one," Sam raised his eyebrows as he shot Pietro another look. The conversation was lighthearted and friendly enough to bring it up. "Your _hair_. _When'd_ you do it? _Why'd_ you do it? And how do _I_ feel about it?"

"What? You don't like it, _Sweetheart_?"

The pet name sounded exaggerated and silly in Pietro's thick accent. He clearly meant it to.

"I'm just saying."

"I did it before we met and because I like it. That is true. You do not like it. But it is growing on you. You will never admit this to me."

"Good. I like that."

~

The drive upstate was actually fun. Pietro had expected things to be horribly uncomfortable between him and Sam- at least at the beginning. But the task of coming up with stories and details about their relationship was more than a little enjoyable. They laughed at one another's more ridiculous ideas, parsed out details, and checked for info that could potentially come up. He'd almost forgotten about their destination when Sam pulled into a residential suburban area.

"Is there anything we're forgetting?"

Pietro swallowed, suddenly feeling very nervous- even though he had no real personal stake in the situation.

"Not that I can think of."

"Alright," Sam pulled into the driveway of a small, but well-kept one-story. "This is it. Last chance to back out."

Pietro stuck out his jaw and grabbed the door handle. "I am not backing out."

"Okay- then let's wade in."

They were halfway up the sidewalk when Pietro felt himself go cold.

"Sam- wait-"

"What?" The other man raised his eyebrows at him.

"What about touching?"

Sam blinked at him, then shook his head. "I thought we agreed on the sex thing."

"Not sex-" Pietro shook his head frantically, hissing his words. "Touching! Like- how people just touch when they are comfortable with each other!"

"Well if you're not comfortable-"

"It will look suspicious if we don't-"

"Sam!"

There was a flurry of noise as the front door clattered open and a short, middle-aged woman rushed out. Pietro froze.

"Mom!" Sam whipped away from Pietro to meet the woman who was all but running toward him, her arms raised.

"Oh Sam! I'm so happy to see you!" Her voice was a melodic yell and she looked as though she was squeezing Sam within an inch of his life. It seemed a wonder that she could have raised someone so level and calm. "It's been so long!"

"Yeah, Mom. Good to see you."

"Oh and-" Pietro swallowed as she caught sight of him over her son's shoulder. "You must be-"

"Oh- um- Mom, this is..." for one terrible moment, Pietro thought Sam had forgotten his name. "Pietro."

"Oh- Darling!" Before he could say anything or move, the woman had released her son and collided with him. "I'm just- so excited to meet you!"

He let his arms fall awkwardly over her shoulders. Her head only met the bottom of his chin. He exchanged an anxious look with Sam before pulling up what he hoped was a bright tone.

"Yes! Hello, Mrs. Wil-"

"Oh- none of that, dear-" she released him at last, but kept her hands on his arms, beaming up at him. "I'm Celia."

"Celia." He nodded and pulled up a smile, feeling stupidly self conscious as she looked over his face.

"Ma- you're scaring him. Cut it out and come inside."

"Oh- you-" Celia turned and began rattling off gentle reprimands at her son at top speed as she made her way inside the house.

Sam gave Pietro an apologetic look behind her back and jerked his head toward the interior of the house.

~

"Um- where should I-" Pietro lifted the bag from his shoulder, looking more than a little lost. Sam made a mental note to think of some extravagant way to thank him for this favor. It felt like a much bigger deal now, standing in the house he had grown up in.

"Oh- down the hall- first door on the left," Sam's mother was still beaming at the pair of them as she bustled around the kitchen. "I'd show you around myself, but the lasagna."

"Thank you."

Once Pietro was out of earshot down the hall, Sam's mother completely abandoned the dinner to round on him.

"Oh- Sam-"

"Mom, the poor guy," Sam shook his head and dropped into a seat at the table. "You're going to scare him off."

"Where is he from?" She hissed it in the kind of voice that was supposed to be quiet and secretive, but carried better than any other tone. "His accent is _wonderful_."

"Sokovia," Sam kept his voice low and serious, meeting her eyes. "So I'm sure he'd appreciate it if you didn't interrogate him on the subject."

"Oh Sam, I'm not _completely_ tactless."

"Or family or school or work."

"Then what am I supposed to talk-"

"Um- Sam? Can you come here a moment?"

"Yeah- one second!" Glad to have an excuse to escape, Sam jumped to his feet and stepped quickly down the hall before his mother could say anything else. Pietro was sticking his head out of Sam's old bedroom door, looking anxious. "What's wrong?"

"Your mother is expecting us to share this room, yes?"

Sam's heart sank as he understood. "Shit."

"There is only one bed, Sam. What are we going to-"

"We'll figure it out tonight," he shook his head. "Just- try not to worry about it. We just have to get through dinner, maybe coffee, then tell her we are tired from the drive and want to go to bed."

"The one bed."

"Yes," Sam rolled his eyes. "Now come on, alright? She's gunna start getting suspicious."

As they stepped back out into the hall, Pietro gave him a tentative sort of smile.

"Your mother is very sweet."

"Sometimes," Sam grinned. "But just you wait."

It was perfect timing that Pietro laughed just as they entered the kitchen once more. They must look for all the world like two people completely at ease with one another. And not like strangers who had met that morning.

"I hope everything's alright," Sam's mother looked up from where she was checking the pan of lasagna in the oven.

"Fine," he said quickly. "Everything's fine."

"Well, have a seat then, you two!" She flapped her hands joyfully at the pair of them. "I want you to _relax_ this weekend. I don't want you thinking of your visits with me as something to dread," she beamed at Pietro. "I'm hoping there will be _plenty_ from now on."

As far as Sam could tell, his mother didn't notice just how tight Pietro's smile was. Or that his leg was bouncing under the table, almost too fast for the eye to track. When she turned around again, Sam caught his eye and glanced pointedly down at his knee. Pietro followed his gaze and blinked, as though he hadn't quite noticed what he was doing until he saw his leg all but vibrating. With what looked like a great effort, he held still.

"So quiet!" She eyed them suspiciously and Sam swallowed hard. For all his mother's flaws and skills, the most dangerous of both was her powers of perception.

"We're just tired from the drive, Mom."

"Well, I'll let you off the hook for a little while," she turned around, beaming, hands full of a tray of espresso. "But just until these kick in."

~

The espresso was not helping Pietro's nerves in the slightest. He should have known better. But now after two shots of the stuff, he felt like his heart was going to escape his chest. This had been a bad idea. It had seemed funny when Wanda explained the situation, but now that he was here, sitting next to Sam, in Celia's clean, yellow kitchen, it all seemed very serious. His stomach twisted every time he thought of the way Celia's whole face had glowed when she talked about their future visits.

"Alright- now-" Celia set down the pasta pan and side dishes before finally tossing her apron onto the counter and dropping into her own seat. "We can finally get into it."

Pietro glanced at Sam and was somewhat comforted to see he looked just as anxious as Pietro was feeling.

"So- first off- how did you two meet?"

All said and done, he was unbelievably glad they had planned everything out so well. Pietro sat back and let Sam launch into the tame but perfectly believable story of their first meeting and date. But, while he was content to let Sam do the talking and fade into the background, Celia was not content to ignore him.

"Quit hoggin the conversation, Son!" Celia laughed and slapped Sam's shoulder affectionately. "I talk to you plenty! I want to talk to your man here!"

Pietro knew he was starting to flush and hoped it would be interpreted as 'in character.'

"It is true though," he shrugged. "Not a very exciting story, I'm sorry."

"Then tell me something more exciting!"

Pietro hesitated, then grinned as he remembered something.

"Well, that is technically the first time we meet," he started, ignoring the confused look Sam was giving him. "But I knew Sam before he knew me."

"You did?" Celia was enthralled already. She was an excellent audience. "How's that?"

"Well- my sister and I are twins. Last fall, Wanda mentioned to her new friend Sam that our birthday was nearing. So, being the good friend that he is, he bought her a book she had wanted to read and sweets for her to pass to me."

Sam was staring at him in disbelief. Because the story was true, no doubt.

"So I knew that he was kind, before I even met him."

"Yeah, I did pretty good on him," Celia shot her son an affectionate smile. "Nice to know some of it stuck." She looked around at the table as though just remembering why they were sitting there. "Oh- goodness! No one's eating! I promise, no matter what Sam's told you, my cooking is not that bad."

It wasn't all that terrible, Pietro thought, once they started talking. Celia was chatty enough to fill in the gaps once they had worked their way through the basics. And, not for nothing, the lasagna was very good.

~

Sam closed the door of the bedroom and took a slow, deep breath.

"Nice. Work!" He grinned as he turned back to Pietro, who was running a hand through his hair and looking a little breathless, as though he'd just finished a sprint race. He returned Sam's smile.

"Same to you," Pietro crossed his arms and laughed slightly. "It must be harder for you. She doesn't know me. If I act strange, it is fine. She will just think I am strange. You have to act like yourself."

Sam shrugged. "I think everyone's nervous introducing a new partner to their parents. I think we can blame any weirdness on that."

"Good." Pietro looked back at the room and, specifically, the bed. "What do we do about...?"

"Oh- Don't worry about it," Sam shook his head, brushing off the question with a wave of his hand. "I'm a soldier. You take the bed- I'll sleep on the floor."

To his surprise, Pietro scowled and drew himself up as if insulted.

"You want me to sleep in _your_ bed, in _your_ home, while _you_ are on the floor?"

"It's not a big deal," Sam stepped around him to start dividing the blankets and pillows. "I'm telling you, I'm used to it. I did two tours in Afghanistan."

Pietro's eyebrows snapped together and he grabbed the remaining bedclothes, tossing them to the floor as well.

"And I live on street for fourteen years. I am not sleeping on a bed while you lie on the floor."

Sam blinked, but tried to ignore the unpleasant implications of this to focus on the problem at hand.

"Listen, there's no point in both of us sleeping on the floor when there's a perfectly good bed right here."

Pietro shrugged, folding up one of the quilts to lay it out like a mat. "So you sleep on it then, Soldier."

Sam sighed and rubbed his temples. The argument was going nowhere.

"Fine. We'll both be tough guys and sleep on the floor. But if you can't sleep, just hop on up there and I won't tell a soul."

Pietro made a "tch!" noise and piled a stack of pillows near the dresser on one side of the bed. Sam shook his head and set his things up on the other side.

~

Pietro dug through the bag Wanda had packed for him, looking for the toothpaste. His phone buzzed and he checked the message with one hand while still searching with the other.

_How is it going? Have you been caught?_

_It is going well. I would be a great spy._

_No you wouldn't. How are you getting on with Sam?_

_Great. He is great._

_Oh no._

_What?_

_I don't have time for this._

Pietro frowned at his phone and shook his head. Sometimes, Wanda was just strange and there was no good explanation.

_Goodnight, Vas'tacha._

Curious over what was taking Sam so long, he stuck his head out of the bedroom door as he smeared toothpaste onto his brush.

"I know you've got extra pillows somewhere."

"Here, let me. You don't know where anything is anymore."

"Thanks."

Pietro knew he shouldn't be eavesdropping, but once he started, he couldn't stop.

"So- I'll see you in the morning. Night, Mom."

"He really is beautiful, Sam."

"...Yeah. Uh- thanks."

"Really, Sam, I mean it. I'm so happy for you."

"...thanks."

"A bit young for you though."

" _Mom_."

Pietro grinned and returned to the bathroom, trying to decide if he minded being called 'beautiful.'

~

Sam tried to forgot about the whole situation and fall asleep. But it was impossible. It was a ridiculous situation to be sure, but not when he knew why it was necessary. He couldn't bear to think of his mother's beaming face when she thought he was happy with someone new.

From the sound of the steady breathing on the other side of the room, Pietro had fallen asleep almost immediately. Sam was glad. He'd tried not to pry, but he hadn't known that Wanda and her brother had been homeless in their home country. She never talked about their life in Sokovia, except in vague generalities. The most personal thing he knew as that their parents were dead, though Wanda had never revealed when or how.

As he was just about to drop off, a noise on the other side of the bed dragged Sam away from sleep.

"Hey- you okay?"

The breathing had become fast and somewhat labored.

_"_ _Kap az ágy alatt!"_

"What- I don't speak-" there was a thud and a soft cry and Sam's heart sank as he understood. "Hey- Hey! Wake up!"

When the noise didn't stop, Sam threw manners and caution to the winds to lob a pillow over the bed. There was a strangled yell as the cushion hit, but then the breathing slowed.

"....Shit."

"You okay?" Sam tried to make his voice sound as light as he could manage. As though hearing someone else's night terrors was just a normal social occurrence.

"I... yes. I'm sorry. I woke you."

"No. I was awake."

"Oh- I'm sorry anyway."

"Don't be, man. It's- he tried to think of something to say that wouldn't make Pietro more uncomfortable. "I get those. They're... rough."

Silence. Sam winced, regretting saying anything at all. He should have just let Pietro wake from the dream on his own. But he had been telling the truth. He knew exactly how terrible those kinds of dreams could be. Some nights he would give anything to have someone wake him up.

"Anyway, goodnight."

"Goodnight, Sam."

~


	3. Saturday Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to shoot for Friday evening updates, as that seems like most people's prime fic reading time.  
> Thank you for all your support! And, you know, if anyone felt themselves inspired to continue this revolution, I would be ECSTATIC to see something in the tag that I didn't write myself. *Hopeful puppy-dog eyes*

Pietro only slept for a few more hours after Sam woke him from his nightmare. After lying on the floor in silence for what felt like centuries, he got up and slipped out of the bedroom, congratulating himself when Sam did not so much as stir.

He padded as quietly as he could down the hall and into the kitchen. The espresso machine didn't look that hard to deal with. It was an appliance. Appliances were meant to make life easy for rich people who already had easy lives. But within five minutes, the machine was bubbling, steaming and all but screaming at him.

"Shit-" he frantically pressed as many buttons as he could at once. " _Bazza meg..."_

"Oh Honey- don't bother-"

Pietro jumped at Celia's voice and turned around, feeling more than a little sheepish.

"Ah- I'm sorry- I shouldn't have-"

"No-no-no!" She stepped up to the counter and pressed a series of buttons on the machine. It stopped screaming and the steam and bubbling took on a calmer, happier tone. "It's no problem!"

"I'm very stupid," he offered an apologetic smile by way of explanation.

"It's not you, sweetheart," Celia waved a hand as she started pulling things out of the fridge and cabinets. "That thing has always been temperamental. But sit- sit! Don't worry about anything while you're here, I keep telling you."

He sat, and searched around for something to say. The sun wasn't even up yet. He pulled his phone out of the pocket of his ragged sweatpants.

"Celia, it is four thirty. Why are you awake?"

"I could ask you the same question."

Pietro felt his face start to burn and looked down at his phone again for something to do. "I do not- my sister, she works nights at the bar. I like to be awake when she comes home."

"That's very sweet."

He shrugged. "I... do not work. So I lose no sleep if I stay awake whenever she is home."

"I thought you might not," Celia sat across from him, a mug of tea in her hands. "My son, bless him, gave me a list of things I'm not allowed to ask you about, and work was on it."

Pietro muttered something about 'not what mothers want to hear about their son's partners.'

"Oh, don't be silly. I watch the news. I know what the job market's like especially for immigrants."

He shot her a grateful smile. "What else is on Sam's list?"

She thought about this for a moment before ticking them off on her fingers. "It was work, school, family- but I'm guessing not including your sister, and your home country."

Pietro grimaced. "I think Sam has me confused with my sister. She is the one who does not like to speak of the past."

He hadn't meant to say that. But Celia was nodding sympathetically.

"Does that mean I get to ask about your childhood?"

Pietro nodded, but kept his eyes on the table, tracing the woodgrain there. "Our city was bombed when we were ten years old. Our parents died and we... we were trapped under the rubble for days." He looked up and offered her a grim smile. "I think this is what Sam is afraid you will ask me about."

To his surprise and relief, Celia did not simper over the sad tale. She didn't exclaim either. He always understood the reactions to this story- the few times he had told it- but that didn't make it any easier to think of a way to respond to them.

"I'm sorry."

He shrugged, unsure there was much else to say. "It is what it is." It's what Wanda said when things went from bad to worse. "My sister does not like to talk about home. But I... I have to remember, otherwise everything that happened to us means nothing."

"Hey- what are you two doing up?"

Pietro jumped at Sam's voice, feeling stupidly guilty for talking to the other man's mother alone.

"Oh- we were just having a nice chat. You two want pancakes or waffles?"

~

"Do you think your man would like chowder for dinner?"

Sam was so stuck in his own thoughts he almost didn't realize his mother was talking to him and not just thinking aloud.

"Huh?"

She laughed, pushing the cart to the next aisle of the grocery store.

"Dinner. Chowder. Pietro. Do you think he'd like that?"

"Oh- yeah. Sure."

She smiled up at him as she grabbed the necessary ingredients.

"Distracted."

"Yeah- uh-" he tried to think of a believable excuse for his closed off mood. "It's just... weird." He finally decided on the closest thing to the truth as he could manage, just like Pietro said. "Having someone in my old room."

She nodded. "I suppose. Did you two have trouble sleeping?"

"Yeah," he feigned interest in a pack of pepperoni. "What were you two talking about this morning?"

"The bombings."

" _Mom_ \- I told you-"

He says he doesn't mind," she raised her eyebrows at him. "That his sister is the one who tries to keep things bottled up."

Sam felt a twinge of guilt and nerves that had nothing to do with his inconsistency in the fake relationship.

"Yeah- well- he _says_ he's fine with it. But you don't just bring up traumatic stuff like that over coffee. What were you thinking?"

"I didn't ask anything," she seemed unbothered by his reprimands, still gathering jars and cans as she spoke. "Just said you had a list of things I wasn't supposed to ask about."

Sam groaned. "Mom-"

"He asked. I told him the list. He said it was because his parents died in the bombings. And because him and his sister got trapped in the rubble and that it happened when they were just children."

Sam swallowed and tried to act like this was not news to him. Like sure, it was sad, but it wasn't something he hadn't heard before. His mind supplied the mental image of Wanda and Pietro as children, crying and scared while their city fell around them. He flicked through a selection of spice packets, trying not to let his horror show.

"So I think you get why I told you not to ask him about family and his country, right?"

She sighed heavily, the way she did when she was about to give him unsolicited life advice.

"Well, maybe _I_ shouldn't have been talkin to him about it. But how often do the two of you talk about it?"

He said nothing. She already knew the answer- at least in part.

"What with his sister not liking to talk about it, I get the sense he doesn't get to vent a whole lot."

Sam shoved his hands in his pockets. "Yeah. Maybe."

~

Pietro pulled out his phone once Sam and Celia had gone. They only needed a few things from the grocery store, and Sam insisted he stay behind to try to get more sleep. There was already a line of texts from Wanda since early that morning.

_Call me_

_Don't worry about waking me_

_Call me immediately, Drágám_

The hair on the back of Pietro's neck stood up at her urgency. He knew he shouldn't have gone. And now something had happened and he wasn't there. He scrambled to call.

"Wanda? Are you alright? What's happened?"

"I am fine but _you_ are flying towards a huge problem."

Pietro blinked, confused. "Wha- Wanda, I thought you were in troubl-"

" _You're_ in trouble, Pietro. And his name is Sam Wilson."

Pietro sat on the edge of the bed in Sam's room and ran a hand down his face.

"Why is he a problem all of a sudden? He is _your_ friend. What has he done?"

"He hasn't done anything, the problem is _you_."

"Me? Wha-"

"You like Sam."

"Was I supposed to hate him?"

"You weren't supposed to start having _feelings_ for him!"

Pietro rolled his eyes, even though she couldn't see him. "I do _not_ -"

"Pietro, you are the easiest person in the world to read. And you fall hard and fast. This is going to be messy. I'm buying a bus ticket and coming to rescue you from yourself."

"Wanda- you are being ridiculous. I do not have feelings for a man I just met."

"You do. Say there is an emergency and come straight home before you sleep with him."

"I'm not _that_ fast!"

"Yes you are! Come home."

"You can't order me around- I'm older than you!"

This last he said directly into the face of the phone before hanging up.

Wanda always worried too much. Never mind that she took the underground at closing time alone six nights a week. It was _Pietro_ who was always in danger, to her estimation.

He laid down over the covers of the bed and flicked through his phone some more. He wouldn't sleep. He could already tell. But perhaps a shower was in order.

The bathroom was far bigger and cleaner than Pietro was accustomed to, and he stared, perplexed at the shower for what felt like minutes. Why did everything have to be so complicated in this house? But once he figured out the tap, the water pressure and temperature was perfect.

What did Wanda know? He didn't fall that fast. Not even for kind men who knew what it was like to lose himself in bad memories in his sleep, and whose mothers made lasagna and waffles. Pietro scrubbed hard at his face, as though he might be able to clean such thoughts away.

He spent much longer than usual in the shower. When he got out, the mirror and walls were dripping. Pietro frowned around the steam-filled room. Where were the towels?

He groaned as he remembered seeing a stack of them on Sam's dresser. He shook out his hair as best he could to keep from dripping on the bedroom carpet and opened the door.

~

The house was quiet when they returned. Sam could almost pretend he and his mother were alone.

"You think your man's still asleep?"

She, on the other hand, could not let him forget.

"Probably should leave him be."

"I could use your help with that chowder."

"Yeah, sure."

He was still distracted. No thoughts seemed to stick in his head for longer than a few seconds.

"I can tell he's good for you."

"Huh?"

His mother smiled that annoying mother's smile.

"Pietro. I can tell you are really serious about him." She elbowed him as he took out the can opener. "It's good for you."

"I dunno how serious it is." His mouth felt dry. "Who knows."

"You sure do. Way you only seem focused when he's here. You don't stop smiling when he's in the room."

Sam's hands slipped on the can he was opening and the contents splattered all over his shirt and jeans.

"Oh shit-"

"See! That's how you know you're in love."

"I think people are capable of spilling things without romance in their lives, Ma." He cleared off most of the thick cream base with a paper towel and washed his hands. "Dammit- I gotta go change. Hang on."

He paused outside the door to his bedroom and opened it slowly. But once inside, he could hear the distinct sound of the shower running in the bathroom. Good. There would be no awkwardness of trying not to wake Pietro while he grabbed his clothes and changed in the bathroom.

The soup had soaked all the way through his jeans and to his boxers. He stripped down completely and started digging in the drawers he hadn't touched in months. He always kept a few spare changes of clothes at his mother's house, but every time he visited, it got harder and harder to remember where he'd put the necessaries. He was so preoccupied with finding a fresh pair of shorts that he almost didn't hear the bathroom door open.

" _Bazz_ \- Fuck!"

"Shit!" Sam really should not have spun around. It's not like he didn't know what he would find. But he did spin around. Wearing nothing at all. To nearly run smack into Pietro- who was not only just as nude, but dripping wet.

 _"_ _Az istenit! Kutyafasza- A kurva anyad! Kurva eletbe! Baszd ki-"_

"You two alright? What's going on in there?"

"Uh-" Sam finally managed to return his eyes to their sockets and turn back around to scramble back to his task of finding clothes. "Yeah! Fine! Just-"

"You're _screaming_ \- is everything-"

"It's- spider!"

Sam turned again despite himself, unable to keep from giving Pietro an incredulous look. The other man made a pained face before finally seeing the towels on the dresser behind Sam and lunging for them. Sam jumped back to allow him and finally came to himself enough to scoop up his jeans off the floor to use as a temporary shield, but he didn't avert his eyes soon enough. The scars spanned the entirety of Pietro's torso and arms, looking both old and deep. One above his left hip looked like a considerable chunk of flesh had been bitten out and healed badly.

"Sorry-" he hissed deliberately at the wall.

"Oh for heaven's sake- you're two grown ass men!"

"Got it! Is fine!"

Sam risked a glance over his shoulder to see Pietro slipping back into the bathroom, towel tucked around his hips and more in his arms. He swallowed hard and hurried to get dressed.

~

Luckily, Celia was full of chatter all the way through lunch and didn't seem to notice that Sam and Pietro weren't even looking at each other.

"I'm afraid there's not much to do around here for the afternoon," she informed them cheerfully. "But that will give us plenty of time to chat, won't it?"

"Absolutely!" Pietro knew his voice was way too loud and way too high. But Celia didn't seem to notice, and Sam was staring with determination into his food. "That- um- sounds good."

"Mhmm-" Sam's mouth was full and he seemed terrified of it being otherwise, lest he be forced to actually join the conversation.

It seemed at last, Celia noticed something was wrong. She was looking from one of them to the other, frowning slightly. Seeing as Sam still wouldn't look up, Pietro risked an apologetic look at the other man's mother and shook his head. She gave him an understanding wince of a smile. Hopefully she just thought they'd argued.

"Maybe we could head up to the museum?"

Pietro nodded, but Sam finally lifted his face from his bowl.

"Ma- he doesn't want-"

"No- museums are... nice." He offered Celia a small smile. "That sounds good."

For the first time over the meal, Sam and Pietro's eyes met. They both looked down almost immediately. Pietro knew there was a flush creeping up his neck and did his best not to think about everything he had seen after his shower.


	4. Saturday Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your kudos- hope you are enjoying!

Despite Sam's better judgment, they took his car to the nearby history museum. It wasn't nearly as bad as he worried. His mother didn't even try too hard to steer them around the place like children. While she was safely chatting with one of the attendants, Sam stepped up to Pietro's side where he stood looking at a display of arrowheads.

"Hey- uh- so this is turning out to be way worse for you than planned, huh?"

"Wha-" Pietro jumped, then let out a small laugh that seemed half a sigh of relief that they were speaking again. "Is... a more eventful weekend than I thought. But is better than sitting around at home."

"Really?"

"Oh yes. We do not have a television, so I must get all my drama from real life."

Sam laughed. "So what you're saying is, this ain't a bad episode?"

"There is lots of comedy."

They stood in silence for a few moments.

"So um- I still feel like I'm gunna owe you big time when this is all over. Feel like my left arm should about cover it."

Pietro laughed again and this time it sounded less anxious.

"I don't know. I might have to think of something. It will be very painful, I think."

"That's fair." Sam felt like there was a cough stuck in his throat that wouldn't come out. "But really- I can't thank you enough. You don't know how much it means, but trust me: it's a lot."

Pietro finally looked over at him. "I thought this was just to get Celia to stop setting you up."

Sam hesitated, pretending to look over the date tags attached to each display in front of him. His shoulder was touching Pietro's and he almost pulled away before he remembered what he had said about touching casually. It was true, and he made a mental note to pointedly touch when his mother was around. But for now, this wasn't so terribly awkward, even if she wasn't looking.

"Yeah. But she only does it because she worries about me. Likes thinking I've got someone around to keep an eye on me."

Pietro laughed at this. "You don't seem like the kind of person who needs to be taken care of."

"Oh come on, everyone does sometimes."

It had finally happened. Despite his best efforts, Sam was turning into his mother. That had sounded like the exact sort of thing she would tell him when she was feeling wise and a little condescending.

"That sounds like very wise advice that I will not take as seriously as I should."

They laughed again. Sam tried to ignore just how often he laughed at the things Pietro said. Wanda was funny too, he reasoned. Maybe her twin's sense of humor reminded Sam of his friend. He should really make more of an effort to see Wanda outside of work. It sounded like the twins lived hard lives- they could use a little outside support. He could invite them over to dinner. Or just one at a time. Pietro must get lonely with his sister at work all the time.

Oh no.

~

Pietro was just starting to think they could pull this off. The museum was interesting, made more so by Celia's semi-historically inaccurate commentary and Sam's loving but exasperated facial expressions during each correction she made to the displays. They could definitely make it until the next afternoon. That was only about twenty hours. And if he and Sam had to kiss in order to convince Celia they were in love, then so be it.

Wanda was always right.

He excused himself to the bedroom while Sam and his mother started pulling out ingredients for dinner. Wanda answered the phone almost immediately, even though he knew she was at work.

"Did you ruin my social life with your dick again?"

"That has never actually happened and it still hasn't."

"Don't pretend you don't remember Csilla. But you haven't ruined my friendship with Sam yet?"

Pietro sat on the bed and sighed.

"No. I think he does not know. But what am I going to do?" Halfway through hissing the conversation, Pietro realized there was no point lowering his voice, as neither Sam nor Celia spoke any Magyar. "You were right, Wanda. I've screwed up. It's not like this could ever _go_ anywhere."

"Well, not if you sleep with him at his mother's house. Sam is the type to be very awkward about that. But if you wait and get to know him under normal circumstances, I don't see why not."

Pietro blinked at the opposite wall. "You're not serious."

"Don't get me wrong. I'm _very_ unexcited for you to date one of my friends. But in _your_ interests, Sam is wonderful. Even if the relationship ends, he will never be awful to you."

"Are you giving me _permission_ to date one of your friends?" Despite himself, he was grinning.

"I am only saying that this doesn't have to be a bad thing- you falling hard and fast for Sam. Not if you are smart."

"But I am not smart, _Drágám_. That is your job. You are clever so I don't have to be."

"Then listen to me: get to know Sam slowly this weekend, then as him for coffee."

Now she'd done it. She had tricked him. Fooled him into thinking the situation was not completely hopeless. He actually considered this a decent plan as they said their goodbyes and hung up. He didn't even doubt it until he returned to the kitchen.

He felt sick the second his foot touched linoleum. It was no one thing that set it off, but a combination of things. The smell of chicken and spices. The sun behind the trees in the backyard, making the only real light the fluorescent one directly above them. Sam chopping an onion while Celia hummed over a frying pan. Sam saw him first and something in his face must have given him away.

"Hey- everything okay with your sister?"

His throat was closing up. He barely registered the question, but finally managed to nod.

"I- ah- I have to- I need to get- excuse me-"

He heard both of them calling after him, but did his best to ignore them as he let the front door snap shut behind him and started off at a run.

~

After assuring his mother that everything was fine and Pietro just needed air, Sam set off after him. Luckily, a cul-de-sac left little question of which direction he had gone. Sam had hoped that he'd catch up enough to see him in only a short time, but even at the mouth of the street, there was no sign. He cursed under his breath and took a guess, sprinting off towards the park a few blocks away. Luckily, he guessed right. Sam finally slowed to a jog, his lungs burning from the near two mile run.

"Jesus- you're fast. You an Olympian or something?"

Pietro said nothing. He was sitting on a park bench, elbows on his knees as he leaned over to catch his breath. Sam stood a yard away for a minute, trying to think if it was better to speak or to wait. Pietro made the decision for him. At least, the small noise he made did.

It wasn't a sob. He wasn't crying. but it was the kind of noise you made when you wanted to yell but were suppressing it out of fear or frustration with what you were feeling.

Sam sat down on the bench next to him.

"You okay?"

Pietro ran his hands down his face and spoke through his fingers.

"I forgot. It... it's stupid. But I forgot what having home and family looks like. It's..." he swallowed before finishing the confession in a lame, quiet voice. "Very stupid."

"That's not stupid." Sam hesitated, trying to decide how much he should intrude. "I... I know you and your sister have had it rough since your parents died."

"We were ten." Pietro cleared his throat hard. "The city was bombed. Our parents were gone with the first shell. So we hid under the bed." His leg was bouncing again and he was staring at his hands. "It took them days to find us under the concrete and bricks. That is-"

He straightened up slightly and tapped his side, where the deepest scar was. Sam nodded, trying to deny that things were getting tight in his throat.

"Wanda has the same. She always wears tights and stockings- even in summer. Have you noticed?"

"I'm... so sorry." He cleared his throat. "I- I didn't mean for this to be rough for you. It's just supposed to be-" he shook his head and decided to come clean all at once. "The reason my mom's so worried about me is because... I was with this guy in the service. And two years ago, he died on a mission we were running together."

This seemed to startled Pietro out of the hole he was staring in the back of his own hand. He looked up at him, eyes wide.

"Sam-"

"It's not- I didn't want you to get involved with this. It was just supposed to be funny for you- at worst a little awkward. I didn't want to bother you with the whole messy backstory."

Pietro was staring and Sam tried not to notice. It was hard to ignore that Pietro's eyes were not the kind of blue people always talked about- like the sky or the ocean. They were paler- almost ghostly. Sam thought Wanda's must be the same, but he'd never really noticed before.

"I'm sorry-"

"No- I didn't mean to like- one-up your-"

"No- I-" he muttered something in Magyar before going on. "I'm still sorry. I don't know what... what that's like."

"I loved Riley." It felt wrong to talk about this with a stranger. Because Pietro was a stranger. Sam kept having to remind himself of that. But he was still talking. "But I've grieved him. I've moved on. I remember him, but it doesn't hurt the way it did at first. My mom- she thinks me being single means I haven't moved on."

They were quiet for a moment.

"Are- is that what your wing is for?"

Of course he had seen the tattoo. Sam nodded.

"For angel wing-"

"No-" Sam grimaced. "I'm not that cheesy- come on. Riley Falcon. Old Ojibwe family."

Pietro nodded again. "I don't... I don't think I've ever loved anyone that much."

"Course you have. You and your sister look after each other like no other."

To his surprise, this did not seem to be a welcome subject at all.

"It may look that way. But I do not think it is true. I love my sister, but Wanda does not need me the way I need her."

Sam listened, stunned.

"When... when we first arrived, Wanda made friends with a girl at the makeup counter in a shop. Then, once she had interviews for jobs, she had someone to do her hair and makeup- and someone who would lend her nice clothes." He shook his head. "She is still dear friends with Darcy. And- it's not- she didn't use her, not really. But Wanda is so clever. She plans these things, you know? She is always moving forward. And... and I'm afraid that she is finally just going to leave me behind."

They sat in silence for a full minute.

"Well, shit. Now I have to make up another confession."

This thankfully startled a laugh out of Pietro.

"I'm sorry. I did not need to make it a competition."

"I think you might have won." Sam cleared his throat and looked out across the park. "But- seriously. Anyone who's met Wanda knows how much you mean to her. I've known your name for months. I don't think there's anyone's opinion Wanda gives two shits about except yours. I think... she'd be _devastated_ if she knew you thought she was moving on from you."

Pietro was looking at him again. He didn't seem to worry about staring the way Sam did.

"You're too nice, Sam."

He let out a grim huff of laughter. "Just you wait."

~

The walk back to Celia's house was pleasant. The night was unusually cool and Pietro welcomed the stiff breeze. It cleared his head better than the run had. He didn't want to admit how much Sam's presence was helping.

"So- no pressure, but my mom thinks you're the best."

Pietro smiled at the ground. "I feel like she is the kind of person who likes everyone."

Sam laughed. "Well- that's true. But she doesn't go on and on unless she _really_ likes someone. And she immediately starts talking about how great you are the second you're out of earshot."

Pietro tried to justify how hot his face was by thinking of how far he had sprinted. He never liked people talking about him- even if they were saying good things.

"Well- she is very kind. But she would change her mind eventually."

Sam gave him a very odd, surprised look. "Do you really think so?"

"Everyone does."

Sam looked like he wanted to argue, but he interrupted hastily.

"And I understand why she worries about you. Not because I don't think you need someone all the time. But because I don't think I could be alone. I have always had Wanda."

"Yeah, well- maybe I'm just supposed to be alone."

Pietro felt like this was something Sam did not want him to respond to either. Thankfully, they were already halfway up Celia's driveway. She was in the kitchen when they came inside, making herself busy to show she hadn't been waiting anxiously for them to return. Sam offered a properly vague excuse for why they had left. The food was ready and they returned to amiable conversation between the three of them with ease.

After dinner, Celia mentioned hopefully that she had rented a movie. They agreed to the superhero flick and popcorn without hesitation.

“She’s going to hate me when we break up.” Sam grinned at him as he flopped onto one end of the sofa. “I can tell. She’s fantasizing about introducing you to everyone as her new son as we speak.”

Pietro laughed and tried not to notice how completely flattered he was that Celia liked him so much. Or how much he might like it for her to talk about him that way.

“You should introduce her to Wanda. My sister could use some mothering, I think.”

He sat on the opposite side of the couch to wait, then hesitated. Just as Celia rounded the corner with the bowls of popcorn, he swung his legs up across Sam’s lap, settling his feet on the far armrest and leaning back against his own. Sam’s eyebrows shot up and he all but jumped to lift his arms out of the way. Pietro returned the look and mouthed “touching!” as Celia chattered away and set up the dvd player. He almost held his breath until Sam nodded decisively in that laughably business-like way he had about the whole arrangement and slowly relaxed again.

Halfway through the movie, he sent Wanda a picture of Sam’s arm resting comfortably across his denim-clad legs.

_You’re getting worked up over him touching your shins, aren’t you? You have it SO bad._

_Don’t pretend you didn’t know I would._

_I don’t know what you mean._

_I found the condoms in my bag._

_Well, I didn’t KNOW. But you’re impulsive. I need you to be safe._

They made their excuses and a few yawns after the film ended. Celia didn't argue them going to bed when Sam told her Pietro hadn't been able to sleep that afternoon. She bid them goodnight and this time, there was a certain relief at being alone together in the bedroom.

"You know," Sam spoke slowly, in an odd, forced casual tone. "It probably doesn't help your dreams- sleepin on the floor. I'm callin it. My house, my rules. And I say you sleep in the bed tonight."

Pietro scowled, but it was more for show this time. "First, it is your _mother's_ house. Second, you say you owe me all weekend, so I think we follow what _I_ say, not you."

Sam seemed to expect this. "Fine, what about a compromise?"

Pietro shrugged and raised his eyebrows.

"We share it."

Oh no. This was not how he was supposed to be doing things. Pietro swallowed and was very aware that it was probably audible.

"Come on don't look at me like that," Sam was grinning in a half-nervous sort of way. Maybe he thought he had offended Pietro. "It's a huge bed. We can be mature adults about this, right?"

"Of course."

Pietro took a little longer than necessary brushing his teeth and changing in the bathroom. This was fine. Sam was right. Sure, it was an awkward situation. But people dealt with awkward situations and moved on. Especially when it was uncomfortable for both parties. In fact, people bonded over uncomfortable situations. Yes, that is what he would focus on. No matter what happened, he and Sam would laugh about it later. Maybe over a drink. Or maybe the next time they ended up in a bed together under different circumstances.

When they could avoid it no longer, they both crawled into the bed and under the sheets.

"Really-" he started, trying to sound as calm and businesslike as Sam. "We will not be so close. We sleep different ways."

He gestured between himself and Sam as they settled into their sleeping positions. He'd noticed that morning that while he was a dedicated stomach sleeper, Sam slept stiff as a board on his back. Pietro supposed that had something to do with being a soldier.

Sam nodded. "Yeah- absolutely. I mean- it's not like we're going to wake up spooning each other, right?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may have occurred to you at this point that I take The Proposal with Ryan Reynolds and Sandra Bullock a tad too seriously. You may be right.


	5. Sunday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are. Sorry the last chapter is so short. I'm good at slow burn, not at actual resolution. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!  
> Now go forth and continue the revolution! I don't really have anything else to add to the "Quickbird Revolution" series, so it seems this is goodbye for now. Might tinker with some things later, but no promises.

Sam's first thought on waking was that he was far too warm. The second, was the realization of why.

There was an arm around his waist, that much he could tell immediately. And unless he was very much mistaken, there was a face pressed into his shoulder- judging by the beard burn over his collar. He might have been free of blame, except that his arm was definitely wrapped around a warm back and his hand was tangled in a few inches of hair.

Oh shit.

He tried to move his arm slowly and carefully. Pietro shifted and muttered softly against his collarbone. Sam tried to ignore how warm his face was getting and fight down the shiver brought on by lips moving against his skin. He should have worn a shirt with a tighter neck to bed. He tried not to think about how long it had been since he'd had anyone's lips on his skin. Or how long it'd been since anyone's hand had slipped comfortably up his shirt to slide across his side. Pietro's arm tightened around him and Sam's gut twisted, hard, as the other man let out a noise halfway between a groan and a sigh. Definitely not a moan. A moan would _not_ be the kind of noise you described coming out of a perfect stranger you happened to be sharing a bed with.

" _Hány óra van?"_

Sam felt every muscle in his body tense as Pietro lifted his face enough to prop his chin up on Sam's chest. For a split second, their eyes met and neither of them moved.

" _Baz_ -"

"Fuck-"

They both scrambled to move away from one another as fast as possible, babbling curses and apologies all mixed up together.

"I'm so-"

"No- it was me- I- Fuck-"

"Just- you can use the bathroom- I'll go down the hall-"

"Right- sorry-"

Sam winced as the door snapped shut behind Pietro as he retreated, red-faced, into the bathroom.

This was not good. He hadn't realized just how much he had been banking on seeing Pietro again until he had ruined it. There was no way they'd be able to go back to casual joking and talking after so many unintentionally intimate moments.

"Have a good night's sleep?"

Sam jumped at his mother's voice and mentally kicked himself. She was going to notice something was up if he kept acting so twitchy.

"Um- yeah. Lot better this time."

"Oh that's so good to hear."

To Sam's utter horror, he saw that her eyes were shining just a bit.

"Mom- what-"

"Oh come on- don't fuss," she flapped her hands at him. "I just haven't seen you in so long. And you know how I worry about you. But you seem in such good spirits. Makes me feel like I don't have to worry so much."

About to roll his eyes, Sam changed his mind and held out his arms instead. His mother didn't need any further invitation. Guiltily, Sam tried to remember the last time he'd been the one to initiate a hug between the two of them.

"You don't have to worry about me. I've got people. And I'm not- I'm in a good place. With everything. I'm _not_ just saying that."

She nodded against his shoulder and, thankfully, her eyes were dry when she pulled away.

“I just wish I met him, that’s all.”

Sam felt his throat go tight, but pushed through the lump. “He woulda loved you. And I know you’re scared I’m never gunna get over what happened. But losing Riley made me a different person than the one that had him. And if that means I end up with someone else, or not- either way the new me is okay. Okay?”

She was trying not to cry again, but nodded through a tight-lipped smile. He was grateful she knew when to just listen. It always surprised him, but she _was_ capable of it.

"Your turn, Soldier."

Sam jumped as a damp hand towel Pietro had been using to dry his hair hit him in the side of the head and came to rest almost neatly on his shoulder. For what felt like the thousandth time, he had to remind himself that Pietro's loose grin and teasing was for Celia's benefit.

"Watch it, tough guy- I'm your ride home."

He wandered down the hall back to his bedroom to shower and almost missed the snatch of conversation behind him.

"It's cute."

"What is?"

"Your names for each other. I think they're sweet."

"Oh- yeah-" Pietro's surprised laugh had to be incredibly forced. "That just kind of happened."

It seemed like no time at all before they had finished breakfast and were saying their goodbyes. Sam's mother chattered endlessly as she hugged them both several times each. Pietro didn't seem to mind.

Sam was trying very hard to fight down the reminder that Pietro and his mother would likely never see each other again. And after the absolute mess of the entire weekend, Sam might not see him either.

~

_So? Are you on your way home? Have you ruined everything?_

_Well, I slept with him, but no sex._

_Are you drunk? What does this mean?_

_It means we both slept in his bed and nothing happened because I have amazing self-control._

_I don't believe you._

Pietro scowled at his phone as Sam pulled the car out of the suburb and onto the highway.

_You should. It is true._

_So have you asked him out yet? CASUALLY?_

_I can't._

_Why not?_

_I will ruin it._

_What do you mean?_

_I ruin everything._

On another day, she might have agreed with him without question, but she always seemed able to read his mind.

_Pietro, you don't ruin anything. Life just always ruins things for you. Do you know what this means?_

_That I am the problem._

_It means that fate owes you. It is saving all the good things until after you have suffered. You are due for the good things to start happening now, aren't you?_

He smiled at his phone, then glanced up quickly to see if Sam had noticed. He clearly had, but his eyes flicked back to the road instantly.

_Wish me luck. It is not going to go well. I moved onto him in my sleep._

_Romantic?_

_Lets hope so. Love you, Drágám._

_Love you too. Good luck. I'll bet he adores you._

Pietro swallowed hard and tried not to think about this last message too much. His hopes were already getting dangerously high.

"Everything good with Wanda?"

"Hm? Oh- yes. She is fine." He felt a tiny twinge of guilt, as he hadn't so much as asked Wanda how work had been. "She says hello."

"Good. I was just hoping she's not too lonely without you home all weekend."

"No- she's probably enjoying the quiet."

This wasn't right. Their conversation was now flat and far too polite.

"I was thinking," Sam started up suddenly, then hesitated. Pietro swallowed. "About your sister."

"...oh."

"I mean- about you. _And_ your sister. About both of you."

Well. That was a _bit_ better. "Yes?"

"I mean- I know you've been here awhile now," he sounded like he was trying very hard not to make a big deal about this. Like _he_ was the one who should be embarrassed. "But it's hard. Starting out life in the city."

Pietro had no idea where he was going with this. "It is..."

"Well, I mean- Wanda's working most of the time, so it must get quiet at your place. I was sort of thinking..."

"Yes?"

"Well- just- maybe we could meet up sometime? I could pay for drinks or dinner or whatever- you know. To make up for this whole weekend."

"Or coffee?"

Sam looked over at him quickly, like this had taken him by surprise beyond anything else that had happened since they met.

"Yeah, that sounds good." Then, after a moment, "Keep it classy."

Pietro's stomach did a little lurch that he would never admit to anyone, not even Wanda.

"Yes. Even though we have already slept together."


End file.
